


Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by the_original_starfruit



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Audrey Hepburn is mentioned an egregious number of times, Canon Compliant, Charlie is a really good friend, Christmas Fluff, Christmas at Welton, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Matchmaker Extraordinaire Charlie "Nuwanda" Dalton, Mischief and Mishaps, Miscommunication, Neil Lives Okay ???, Requisite period homophobia, Sneakin Around, but it's just eggnog, christmas gifts, secrecy, shameless underage drinking, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_original_starfruit/pseuds/the_original_starfruit
Summary: Joy to the world! Christmas is coming to Welton, but despite the picturesque snow on every inch of the grounds, not everything is eggnog, mistletoe, and chestnuts. Finals are upon the Poets, and stress runs high. Neil agonizes over the perfect gift for Todd. Todd agonizes over his feelings for Neil. And Charlie manages to get caught in the middle of it all.
Relationships: Charlie Dalton & Neil Perry, Implied Charlie Dalton/Knox Overstreet, Todd Anderson & Charlie Dalton, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 41
Kudos: 182





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Hey darlings, back from the dead!
> 
> So I started writing this as a Christmas gift to one of my dearest friends, and uhhhhhh big surprise I did not finish it in time. Then working on it was like pulling TEETH all throughout January and February. Fast forward to me spraining my ankle, which basically led to an unplanned writer's retreat (me, an ice pack, and my couch), and bam, we got 7,000 words in two days! 
> 
> Anyway, Charlie Dalton is the emotionally sensitive peacemaker of the Poets. Pry this (head)canon from my cold, dead hands.
> 
> Enjoy !!!

A fire crackled in the grate, its glow a welcome contrast to the icy dark pressing against the window. A radiator clanked. Someone sighed. The only other sounds were pens, scratching softly against notebook paper, and pages turning. A garland of evergreens was draped across the mantelpiece, yielding its effusive scent to the peaceful evening.

Charlie was having _none_ of it.

“Anyone have a smoke?” He groused from the floor, flipping from his stomach to his back and sending a loose paper flying into Knox’s face.

“Not in _here,_ dummy,” Cameron said. “That’s the third time this hour. If you want it so bad, go bum it from someone outside!”

“C’mon, Cameron, show a guy a little, uh, holiday spirit!” Charlie groaned. He was bored, his head buzzing with formulas, passages of Homer, and, worst of all, cursed conjugations of Latin verbs. And, obviously, he was dying for a cig.

“Ah, but you forget who you’re talking to, Charlie,” Meeks piped up from his perch in his favored armchair. “Cameron’s face is next to _humbug_ in the dictionary.”

That got a grin out of Charlie, and he saw Todd hide a silent smile behind his hand. Cameron opened his mouth to retort, face reddening.

“Relax, relax, it’s called a joke,” Charlie said hastily, cutting off the meltdown before Cameron had a chance to boil over. “Besides, if you burst a blood vessel now, who’s gonna be left with the highest score on the calc final?” He pulled a long-suffering face, watching with satisfaction as Cameron sat back, mollified. “Please! We need you to boost the grade curve!”

“It’d be keen if you’d let me study, then,” Cameron said without venom, turning back to his notes.

The near-quiet took over again, settling like a blanket. Todd, marking a passage in his book, yawned. Charlie seconded the notion. If he unfocused his eyes, the snow falling outside took on the appearance of feathers, as if someone had burst a down pillow high above in the sky. The warmth of the fire was nothing short of hypnotic.

Then the door burst open, bouncing off the opposite wall.

 _“I took him sleeping - that is finished too - and the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed!”_ Neil announced through his grin, starry-eyed and flushed, remnants of fresh snow still dripping from his coat. Cameron threw his hands up, his book crashing to the floor.

“I’m going to go study in my room,” he said, getting up and shouldering through the doorway. Neil let him pass, an overcooked expression of sorrow twisting his face. Charlie caught Meeks’ eye and struggled to hold in his laughter.

 _“So should the murdered look, and so should I, pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty,”_ Neil lamented, reaching towards Cameron as he retreated down the hallway. Then he whipped around, vaulted over the coffee table, and slid to a beseeching halt at Todd’s feet. _“Yet you, the murderer, look as bright - as clear! - as yonder Venus, in her glimmering sphere.”_

“My chemistry homework, Neil,” Todd protested weakly, ducking away to pick up the papers that Neil’s trajectory had scattered. His ears were red.

“Don’t even talk about chemistry,” Neil sighed. “I wish the play hadn’t had to end. I feel like I’ve studied enough to last me the next ten years.” He helped Todd collect his papers, and then, instead of sinking into his favorite armchair as he usually would, he toed Charlie in the ribs.

“What gives? Where were you, even?” Charlie whined, batting Neil’s shoe away. He glanced down at the three chapters he still had to read, and the endless pages of Latin that desperately needed translation.

“Come for a consultation, Nuwanda,” Neil said, dodging the question, his eyes shifting between Charlie’s face and the door. “Strictly Christmas business. Very top-secret.”

“Sure, why not. Pull me away from my academic future,” Charlie sighed, getting to his feet. Neil grinned.

“Okay, _Cameron,”_ Knox quipped. Charlie flipped him off as he let Neil pull him into the dark hallway.

They didn’t stop there. They passed several study rooms, descended a staircase, and made a sharp right. When they had almost reached the entrance hall, Neil looked around furtively before tugging Charlie into a shadowy alcove.

“What the hell?” Charlie panted, out of breath and confused. “What, uh, what kind of gift is this, Neil, an assassination plan?”

Neil, at least, had the grace to look guilty, but still he glanced around before speaking, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“No - nothing like that. I, uh -” He broke off, and Charlie squinted. Was it just a vestige of the cold, coming from wherever outside, or were his cheeks _suspiciously_ red -?

“Spit it out,” Charlie said, raising his eyebrows, and Neil gave out in a rush.

“I need a really good Christmas gift, because I _-_ I’m _interested_ in someone and I have to make it special -”

“A _crush?”_ Charlie interrupted, feeling a huge, shit-eating grin unfurl. Neil scrubbed a hand down his face. Yup, he was _definitely_ red. “Well, congratulations! Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Nobody you know,” Neil muttered. There was an odd look of regret in his eyes. Charlie, running a mental check of all the girls Neil had ever mentioned, plowed on.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a good thing you came to me. Nobody knows how to woo a woman like Nuwanda.” A thought struck him, and he frowned. “Hang on, why _did_ you come to me? What about Knox, uhh, loverboy extraordinaire? You know he’s probably planning his proposal to Chris, I’m sure he’d let you in on whatever he’s -”

“No!” Neil said, so quickly that Charlie started. “I, uh - it’s still a secret. I don’t know if she feels the same way, and I don’t want to start out with something big. You know Knox would try and do something like a double date.”

That, at least, was true. No trashy bodice-ripper could hope to rival the walking cliche that was Knox Overstreet planning a romantic rendezvous.

“Well, then, start at square one. What does she like?”

Neil bit his lip, trying to suppress the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Uh, lots of reading. Writing. Poetry, especially older stuff. She’s shy, so whatever it is, it needs to be subtle. Private. Nothing that’ll make a scene.”

Charlie grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

 _“I_ know something you can give her in private,” he said, and watched in shocked delight as Neil’s whole face flushed a brilliant pink. This was _easy,_ and a new reaction - even throughout torments of romances past, Neil had always played along, taking the teasing in stride. This profound embarrassment was astonishing, because it ran so opposite Neil’s old crushes, or Knox’s shameless infatuation with Chris - it seemed cover for a deep, furtive tenderness.

“Yeah, uh, sure, Nuwanda,” was all Neil could get out, trying for casual but fumbling as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “You gonna help me or not?”

“Oh, I’ll help, alright,” Charlie said, thinking, like the absolute chump he was, _how hard could it be?_ “You’ll be going steady by Christmas day. That’s the Charlie Dalton guarantee.”

A brief smile flashed across Neil’s face, fast as quicksilver, and just as quickly faded into seriousness. He leaned forward, gripping Charlie’s upper arm.

“You have to promise me you won’t tell, Charlie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your secret love is safe with me.”

“No,” Neil said simply, and Charlie’s grin faded. “I’m serious. _Nobody_ can know. Not Knox, not Meeks or Pitts. Not Todd.” His face was still as marble, his eyes catching what little light there was to glitter, unblinking, in the dark. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Charlie said, unnerved. “I promise!” He added hastily as Neil’s hand tightened on his arm. Neil blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing, and relinquished his death grip.

“Sorry. This whole thing is making me -” Neil broke off, half-laughing, and put both hands to his head, right at his temples. His cheeks were red again.

“Uuuhhh, crazy?” Charlie supplied. “Is Neil Perry still in there somewhere? You know, my _best friend?”_

“Right here,” Neil said, whacking him lightly before slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get back upstairs. I still have -” he shuddered - “ugh, three chapters of chemistry for tomorrow.”

“Talk to Todd,” Charlie said. “He’s been working on it for two hours. Kept worrying about how behind you were gonna be.”

“Really? He said that?” Neil asked, brightening. “That’s so -”

“Sweet, I know,” Charlie finished. “Made me wanna puke. Bat your lashes and I’m sure he’ll let you copy.”

“Maybe I will,” Neil muttered. He drew ahead a bit as they began to mount the staircase, but Charlie caught his face as he turned away, reddening once again.

Weird. Maybe he was coming down with something.

* * * * *

“Shove over, Dalton,” Pitts mumbled through a yawn, and Charlie didn’t bother to respond. The hallways were crammed with the slow flood of pre-breakfast students, winding their way sluggishly down to the dining hall. Preoccupied with tying his tie, Charlie looked down at his feet. Someone slammed into him, knocking him sideways into Todd.

 _“Watch_ it, Hopkins, you meathead,” Charlie grumbled, then aside to Todd, “Morning, sleep alright?”

Todd shook his head. He looked exhausted.

“Dreamed of failing the chemistry final,” he said, and Charlie whacked him sympathetically on the back.

“And your prophetic dreams haven’t failed you yet,” he joked. Todd just grimaced.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Knox said, coming up between them to slide an arm around each of their shoulders. “Where’s Neil? He told me he’d meet me before breakfast to go over that stupid Latin assignment.”

“Yeah, where is he, Todd?” Charlie asked, frowning. “I owe him a punch for getting Cameron in such a fit last night. I kept waking up thinking he was gonna stab me.”

“Dunno. He was gone when I woke up,” Todd said.

“That’s weird. He’s been acting weird, don’t you think?” Knox said, frowning. “What was up last night, Charlie? What did he pull you out of the room to talk about?”

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

“Ooh, nosy, Overstreet. Privileged information. He wanted my advice, of course - he’s planning Christmas presents for all of you, I can’t tell you anything else.”

It was Knox’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“I call bullshit. I know what he’s getting everyone,” Knox said. “He hasn’t shut up about gifts since December first.”

“He’s been telling me about the Whitman anthology he got me for weeks,” Todd supplied. Charlie bit back a curse.

“You can’t prove that that’s _true,_ though,” he tried. “Maybe it’s all a ruse, and he needed my help with planning the real presents.”

Knox shot him an unimpressed look, then leaned conspiratorially towards Todd, using his elbow to draw him closer.

“Personally? I think Neil has a special someone from Henley. Think about it - he’s been acting weird and moony since the play finished. Staying out late. Getting up early and disappearing. I caught him writing poetry last week, and when I asked to read it he turned _red._ And now, sneaking around making secret Christmas plans?” He flapped his hand, decided. Charlie’s eyes widened with dismay as the verdict fell. “There’s some girl, and he’s trying to sneak out to meet her under the mistletoe for Christmas.”

“I - I think he would’ve t-told, us, Knox -” Todd stuttered, and Charlie jumped in gratefully.

“Abso _lut_ ely, Todd! Why would Neil not tell us, his _closest friends,_ about a _crush_ he -”

“Morning!” Neil said too loudly, right behind them. Charlie tripped, cursing, and would have fallen face-first down the stairs if not for Todd, who just managed to snag him by the belt. “What are we talking about?”

“Ah, Neil!” Knox said cheerfully, “Just in time to tell us about this big Christmas secret you’ve been planning!”

Neil gave a laugh that, to his credit, was almost convincing.

“There’s no secret,” he said. Knox shook his head sadly.

“Who’s the girl, Perry?” he asked, and Neil’s smile vanished as he rounded on Charlie.

“You _told_ them?” he hissed, but as Charlie opened his mouth to defend himself, Knox saved him the trouble.

“He didn’t need to, you just admitted it!” he crowed, and Neil bit his lip so hard Charlie saw it turn white.

“Admitted what now?” Meeks asked, slipping into the group just as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Neil has a girlfriend,” Knox said gleefully over Charlie’s frantic throat-cutting gestures.

“Really? That’s swell,” he said, smiling, his eyes bunched up behind his glasses. “Wait, since when?”

“Since thirty seconds ago, when Knox made it up,” Neil said. “There’s no _girlfriend._ I have a - a stupid crush, for Christ’s sake!”

“Tell us her name,” Knox demanded, and Meeks echoed him.

“Her name!”

“Guys, I really don’t -”

“Her name!”

“Her name!”

“This isn’t making me want to -”

“Her _name!”_

_“Her name!”_

Neil was beginning to smile in spite of himself. Charlie, no longer feeling as bad, joined in on what was becoming a full-bodied chant.

_“Her name!”_

_“Her name!”_

_“HER N -”_

“GENTLEMEN!” Nolan barked, unfortunately converging with them at the doors of the dining hall. “Stop this foolishness _immediately!_ You’re fortunate the Christmas season is upon us, and I’m in a -” he stopped to glower around at them, “ - charitable mood. Now. Do go sit _down.”_

“Yes, sir,” Charlie muttered. They slunk past to join Pitts and Cameron at their table.

There were a few mandatory minutes of quiet as the food was served, and then the assault resumed.

“So, didja meet her at the play? She’s from Henley, right?” Knox asked keenly through a mouthful of hashbrowns.

“Wait, who?” Pitts asked, putting down his fork.

“Neil’s girlfriend. What’s she like? She’s gotta be a looker, right?” Knox pressed. Neil pushed his plate aside and put his face on the table.

“Let him be, Knoxious,” Charlie said, feeling like enough of a secret-keeping failure without having to witness Neil’s prolonged suffering.

“They’re just gonna keep going until you tell us _something,_ Neil,” Cameron pointed out, doing a terrible job at looking uninterested.

Neil heaved a huge sigh of resignation, then sat back up, his chin in his hands.

“Yes, I met her at rehearsal last month. Yes, she’s from Henley. _Yes,_ she’s real pretty,” he deadpanned. Knox hooted, Meeks threw a gleeful elbow into Pitts’ side, and even Cameron smiled into his orange juice.

“What’s she look like?” Charlie asked, giving up on trying not to say anything. Neil rolled his eyes.

“I’m not telling you anything else. You’ll do something insane, like, uh -” he shot a look at Knox - _“go to Henley_ and tell her that I’m into her. I - I don’t even think she likes me back.”

Todd stood suddenly, flushing as every eye at the table turned to him.

“B-bathroom,” he said with effort, and fled.

The conversation resumed quickly, hopping from Henley girls to Chris to Neil’s production of Midsummer Night’s. Eventually, it turned back to finals, but through it all Neil stayed uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes lingering on Todd’s untouched plate.

* * * * *

“What about a book of poems?” Charlie suggested. It was lucky the study room was empty in this brief lull between classes, because restraining the urge to bang his head against the wall was getting harder and harder.

“That won’t work,” Neil frowned from his armchair.

“Why? You said she loves poetry,” Charlie wheedled. So far, the suggestions ranged from chocolate and flowers to a new car and a trip to France, and, no matter how serious or nonsensical the notion, Neil had rejected them all.

“Because I already -” he stopped himself. “Never mind. It just - feels a little impersonal.”

“How about a date?” Charlie asked. “You want it to be personal. Let’s plan the best date in Hellton history!”

Neil folded forward, sagging over his own lap in the very picture of defeat.

“It can’t be something that shows I like her. I - I don’t think I can tell her, Charlie,” he said, voice muffled.

“Why?” Charlie asked, genuinely puzzled. “The worst that happens is she rejects you, you go back to worrying about finals, and then you move on with your life.”

“I -” Neil stopped again, face pressed to his knees. He was very still. The back of his neck showed smooth and pale over the collar of his sweater. What little Charlie could see of him looked, in that moment, very young. “H - she’s my really good friend,” he said. “I’ll tell her, she’ll get freaked out, and she’ll never talk to me again. I don’t think I could - I couldn’t stand it.”

Charlie felt his brow wrinkle. The certainty Neil had in this lack of reciprocation was not only unusual, but downright suspicious. There was another layer of secrecy to the situation, had to be, because something wasn’t adding up - but _what_ seemed just beyond his realm of understanding, dancing away as he tried to grasp it, like a word barely unremembered on the tip of his tongue. 

“Okay,” he said, trying not to let his frustration show. “That’s fine. Then we’ll just think of something completely personal and perfect and slightly romantic that somehow doesn’t give away these feelings that you have.”

Neil groaned into his knees just as Knox entered the room, bookbag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, fellas,” he greeted, “what’s up with you, Neil? Suffering from Anderson Proximity Disease?”

Neil’s head shot up. He looked, for some reason, utterly panicked.

“What?” he squeaked, his voice a good octave or two higher than usual. Knox blinked.

“Todd’s feeling sick, that’s all,” he explained. “I asked him why he didn’t come back to breakfast, and he said his stomach was feeling weird. Thought you might’ve caught it from him.”

“Oh!” Neil gave a laugh of relief, the strange tension draining from his face. “No, I’m just -”

“A lovesick idiot,” Charlie finished, the out-of-the-loop feeling creeping back in. “If anyone understands that, it’ll be you, Knoxious.”

“Ha ha,” Knox said, looking anything but amused as he pulled his Latin textbook from his bag. “But anyway. This look familiar, Neil? Remind you of anything?”

“Oh, _shit._ Sorry, Knox,” Neil said. “I - I completely forgot.”

“Where were you this morning?” Knox asked as he waved the apology aside. “Todd said you were gone before he woke up.”

“I was taking a walk,” Neil said, his eyes cutting to the side. “You know. For, um, love purposes. Sometimes you just have to get away from everything to, uh, think about it.”

Charlie snorted, ready to call Neil out on this obvious lie, but Knox was already nodding.

“Oh, I do that all the time! I went out to the woods yesterday to write another poem for Chris…”

Neil, mercifully, interrupted by checking his watch.

“We still have…thirty-five minutes until Latin. Want to go over it now?” he asked, and Knox blinked.

“Yeah, why not,” he agreed. “You joining us, Nuwanda? You know you could use the help.”

“Nahhh,” Charlie said. “I’m gonna go smoke and look pensively over the courtyard. You know, do my part to intimidate the lower classmen.”

Neil grinned before turning to the textbook.

“Let’s go over the genitive case again. I need practice with that one, too.”

“Smell ya later,” Charlie said, sauntering through the door. He was halfway to the courtyard before he realized how neatly Neil had deflected them from his absence this morning. He swore loudly, startling a few younger boys in the hallway. Twerps.

Well, it didn’t matter. He would get it out of Neil before the day was done - Charlie Dalton guarantee.

* * * * *

As it turned out, Charlie did not get it out of him. By the end of the day, his head was in such a clamoring misery that it was a wonder his brain stayed inside it, never mind having extra room to pry secrets from a resistant source. They’d had assignments heaped on that afternoon, enough to make the past three weeks of exam prep look like a joke by comparison, and an emergency Poet’s study group was unanimously called after dinner. Cameron, using his most annoying tone of command, had rousted a group of twelve-year-olds from a study room on the dormitory floor, and the Poets hit their books, an atmosphere of dull panic pervading the air. Meeks and Pitts were in the corner, bent over a Latin book, murmuring quiet conjugations back and forth. Knox was sprawled on the floor, in front of the fire, nodding off among stacks of textbooks and tomes.

“I _hate_ Homer,” Charlie groaned, crumpling a scrap of paper in his hand. “How am I supposed to write an essay on this _now,_ never mind in a two-hour English exam?”

“Kuh-Keating said we’d only be tested on necessities,” Todd reasoned. “Knowing him, that’s quoting Whitman backwards and writing a poem of our own. You know he only covers some stuff because he has to.”

“That doesn’t help with the hundred pages he’s making us read this weekend,” Cameron muttered. Todd bit his lip at this small insurrection, but opted to go silently back to his book.

“Todd’s right,” Neil said staunchly. “Even if it’s bad now, Keating’ll go easy on us for the actual exam. You heard him today - _relax, an intelligent man knows that his mind needs rest as much as his body, don’t let it get to you, get some sleep tonight.”_ Charlie chuckled at his Keating imitation.

“Well, he’d better go easy,” he said, “since my mind isn’t getting any rest until New Year’s.”

The weekend passed in a dull whirlwind of impressions, alternating mostly between study rooms and the dining hall. When he wasn’t pressing his face into books or eating lackluster meals, Charlie walked with Neil, snatching in-between moments and odd places to toss out suggestions about the gift.

The corridor, freezing compared to the damp heat of the showers they came from:

“Get her journals and stuff to write in? A really nice fountain pen?”

“She already has that stuff,” Neil said glumly after a moment of consideration. His hair was still wet, and he swiped it, dripping, out of his eyes. “Lots of it. Besides, I don’t know if anything I can buy will feel like - enough.”

The hallway, on their way to dinner, voices disguised by the babble of fifty others:

“Take her to a museum and kiss her senseless in the art gallery?”

“You’re worse than Knox,” Neil said, laughing, though a pleased flush spread across his cheeks at the notion. “Talk about a cliche.”

The courtyard, ten in the morning, biting wind and bright snow on old stone:

“Write a secret love poem?”

“I’ve tried,” Neil said. A long plume of frustrated breath, pointed up to the sky. “I’m no good at it, they all come out like garbage.”

“You could ask Todd to help you?” Charlie tried, scuffing some snow with his boot. Neil exhaled a long hiss of a laugh, surprisingly bitter.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would go over real well.”

Charlie didn’t ask - just went back to running (proverbially) headfirst into the (proverbial) brick wall.

By Sunday evening, Charlie was drained of all hope, and the rest of the Poets echoed at least the exam-related portion of his mood. They’d spent a while crammed into Neil and Todd’s room, every surface covered in some combination of boy and book, until Cameron had gone to bed, spouting dark predictions of tomorrow’s exhaustion-induced failure. Meeks had dragged Pitts back to their room as soon as the clock chimed curfew. That left Knox, sitting on Charlie’s feet at the bottom of Todd’s bed, Todd himself, exiled to frantic scribbling at his desk, and Neil, stretched out on his bed opposite, chemistry book face-down on his chest and studies long abandoned in favor of daydreams.

“Wouldn’t it be great to forget all this?” he said, breaking the silence. Charlie started, definitely awake.

“Forget what?” Knox asked, confused. Todd’s pen stopped moving.

“School,” Neil said. “Stress. Exams. I’d still study the important things, of course, like Shakespeare - God, just Shakespeare! Acting! Poetry! Go to a big city, get lost in it, sleep in some cheap motel and audition every day until I get an acting job. Can you _imagine?”_ He trailed off with a breathless little laugh. The dream hung for a moment, glittering and suspended, like a note drawn out in the air.

“New York,” Todd suddenly blurted out, “I - I’d like to go to New York.” He was turning red as they watched. Charlie wanted so badly to avoid his retraction into embarrassed silence, but didn’t know what to say to prevent it. He waited too long, and, as always, it was Neil who coaxed Todd back into the conversation.

“Why New York, Mister Anderson?” Neil asked in a reporter’s nasally voice, holding out a fist as if clutching microphone. His mouth was slanted in a soft little smile, and Charlie watched as Todd opened back up, easy as that - like a flower kept in a dark room finally being placed in sunlight. He swallowed, then began to speak in a way Charlie rarely heard.

“There are p-poets there who wear black, and spend their days writing, just - _writing,_ as much as they can, in parks or brownstones or on the subways, and at night they go to hole-in-the-wall places. Little cafes, and, and things like that. The city - it comes alive after dark, with jazz, a - and poetry. People fill them up, the - the cafes, just to listen to the poets read what they wrote, and at the end they slip away to the next place - just doing what they want. Writing what they want, and being seen and - and unseen. At least, that’s what Keating says,” he trailed off into an embarrassed silence. There was the gentle quiet, for just a beat, of collective wistfulness.

“The big apple,” Knox sighed. “I’ll be a beatnik with ya, Todd. Hell, let’s run away.”

Todd smiled one of his rare, shy smiles, and the moment was suddenly a hundred times lovelier.

“Would if I could,” he said, soft but earnest.

Charlie glanced across the room, and the look on Neil’s face stopped him dead. His lips were barely parted, his cheeks rosy, and his eyes dark - they absolutely shone with wonder, brighter than they had at his own dreams. Charlie had a confused fraction of a second to take this in before Neil noticed him staring, and, so quickly Charlie couldn’t even be sure he’d seen anything, he let his face slide back into its usual grin. He stuck his tongue out and threw his pencil. Charlie yelped as it hit him in the chest, and fell sideways onto Knox.

“C’mon, Nuwanda,” Knox complained, attempting to roll Charlie off his legs as his papers slid to the floor. “We have one more chapter of history. _One_ more.”

Ah, right. Exams.

“Tomorrow it’ll all be over, gents,” Charlie sighed, righting himself and grimly taking the book Knox offered. Distantly, the clock struck midnight - and snow was falling, once again, mute in the moonlight.

* * * * *

They woke to the Monday morning bell, ringing like a death knell from the old stone tower.

“God, kill me,” Charlie groaned, pressing his pillow over his face. Dread sat on his back, big as a boulder and twice as heavy.

“Would that I could,” Cameron said, already up and knotting his tie near the door. “Hurry up, you’ll make us late for breakfast.”

An unusual pall hung over the crowd that filed into the dining hall. The Poets sat at their customary table, all pale and puffy-eyed with a combination of stress and late-night cramming. Before food was served, Nolan stood, tapping his fork on the side of his water glass and quelling what little noise there had been to begin with.

“Good morning, students,” he said brusquely. “As I’m sure you have all been made well aware, today is the day of your final examinations, as well as our final day of classes. As a reward for your rigorous academic advancement, discipline, and excellence this semester - not that anything less is expected of you at Welton -”

 _“Excrement,”_ Charlie whispered, barely smothering his own laughter as Knox stuffed his knuckles in his mouth.

“ - I will be hosting our annual Christmas party tonight, for teachers and students alike, here in the dining hall. Congratulations on another successful term.”

He raised his glass, and the faculty followed. Keating glanced down to their table, quirking his mouth in a small smile, and Charlie swore he saw a wink.

“Now, do well on your exams. I trust none of you will disappoint.”

They left the dining hall with those less-than-encouraging words ringing in their ears. Charlie felt the oatmeal he’d eaten sloshing around in his stomach, threatening to make an unwelcome reappearance as they approached their calculus classroom. Knox punched him on the shoulder, not unkindly.

“Brave to battle, Nuwanda,” he whispered, and they took their seats.

The hateful sheets of paper were passed around, the silence fell, and Charlie looked down at the first question, his vision swimming.

  1. _Visualize the graphs of the functions_ f _and_ g, _and find the x-coordinate of the points_ _at which they intersect._
  2. _f(x) = sech x, g(x) = tanh x; the region bounded by the graphs of f, g,_ _and the y-axis…_



His stomach calmed slightly as he pulled out his ruler. It was fine. He could do this, at least. White-knuckled around his pencil, Charlie got to work.

By the end of the day, he was facing imminent collapse. At long last, the final bell sounded, and heads rose from their collective stupor. Keating smiled around at them, good-natured in a truly awful Christmas sweater, and spread his arms at the front of the room.

“Merry Christmas to all, gentlemen, and to all a good night! Not necessarily applicable, but Dickens rarely goes amiss, and most of you look ready for a nightcap and a long sleep. Ah, yes - exams up here, if you will.”

Chairs scraped, papers shuffled, and, ever-so-slowly, the buzz of conversation that the day had been lacking began to build. Charlie dropped his essay on the growing stack of papers taking over Keating’s desk (not Homer at all - Charlie’s choice, Milton, and, actually, _easy)_ , finally daring to believe it was over.

 _“Yawp!”_ Neil said in his ear, and Charlie laughed, whacking him.

“Merry Christmas, Captain,” Todd mumbled as he dropped his essay atop Charlie’s.

“And to you, Todd,” Keating said warmly, receiving the paper. “Exemplary work, I’m sure.” He aimed the next question at Todd, but raised his voice slightly to address them all. “You’ll be at the party tonight, I hope?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Charlie replied, saluting, and finally, _finally_ he felt like smiling.

“Think I did okay, fellas,” Meeks said, sounding tired but satisfied as they reconvened to exit the room.

“Shut up, _Steven,_ we know you destroyed us. No need to rub it in,” Knox said, rolling his eyes. Meeks, pleased, shouldered his bag, pink with the compliment no matter its backhandedness.

“Important part is that we _made_ it!” Charlie said. “Now, on to the fun part of the day - who’s in on Operation Egg?”

A groan went around the group, and Cameron leapt on enforcement of a rule like a terrier on a particularly slippery rat.

“Nobody,because we aren’t _trying_ that shit this year!” he said, managing a truly impressive glower. Charlie continued, unruffled.

“Good thing no one asked you, Girl Scout. Meeks? We could use your deceptive nerdiness as cover.”

“I - I don’t really want to - I, ugh, I don’t think I’m exactly cut out for rule-breaking, Charlie,” Meeks replied, hemming and hawing for as long as possible and shoving his glasses up his face.

“But you’ll happily drinkit, if someone else steals it,” Pitts pointed out, amused. Meeks looked around, indignant at the betrayal.

“Well, sure - I mean, I - I’m not a _total_ square -”

“I’ll join you, Charlie,” Knox said eagerly. Charlie considered, squinting, making his hands into a rectangle to frame Knox’s face.

“I don’t know, Knoxious - your handsomeness can only get you so far. Sometimes you actually have to have brains to -”

“Speaking of which,” Neil said, raising his voice over the sound of Knox leaping on Charlie, “Who says you should even be in on it at all, Nuwanda?”

 _“What?”_ Charlie asked, aghast, stopping so suddenly that Knox slid from his back. “I - it’s - it’s _my plan?_ From the very beginning it’s been you and me!”

“Exactly,” Neil said sagely. “Think about it - three years running. After that long, they’ve gotta be primed for trouble when they even _see_ us together at this party. I think it’s high time we try a new approach.”

Charlie opened his mouth, ready to protest, but slowly closed it again. Maybe Neil had a point.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly, “fine. Alright. I think…Knox. Even though he doesn’t deserve it. Knox and Neil.”

“Keen,” Knox grinned. “What’s the plan this year?”

“Let’s take this meeting to the lounge, gentlemen,” Charlie said. _“If_ I’m not mistaken -” and he leveled a look at Pitts - “someone’s mother sent a whole lot of Christmas cookies in the mail.”

Neil turned to Todd, who lagged behind wearing a look of confused resignation.

“Todd, you coming?”

“I don’t even know what you guys are talking about,” Todd mumbled, but he stepped up and walked next to Neil, all the way back to the dormitories.

* * * * *

By the time the dinner bell rang, signaling the beginning of the party, they had developed their plan - but as they descended the stairs, the rich smells drifting from the kitchen drove everything but food from their minds.

“Roast chicken for sure,” Charlie said, feeling his mouth water. Cameron sniffed the air like some sort of hound.

“With chestnuts,” he added, and Knox let out a moan of longing.

“I can hear my stomach from here,” Neil said. Beside him, Todd smiled.

“I th-th-think I smell gingerbread,” he said.

“Pittsie! You have the cookies, yeah?” Charlie asked.

Pitts nodded, giving his bag a pat.

“Excellent,” Knox said, eyes gleaming. “Stage one of Operation Egg is underway.”

They reached the entrance of the dining hall, and even Cameron gave a little gasp of delight. The kitchen staff had outdone themselves in the few hours since lunch. The tall fir, felled and dragged from the woods last week during a particularly illuminating Keating class, was festooned with tinsel, shining baubles in the Welton colors, and lit candles, softly glowing with warm light. The doorways had been lined with mistletoe, plump white berries shining under dark, glossy leaves. Holly and ivy hung from every nook. The regular chandeliers were muted, glowing at half strength, and pillar candles gleamed at regular intervals along tables and alcoves. Keating’s record player was tucked into a corner, and music swept through the room, echoing up to the high stone ceilings. Charlie vaguely recognized something from the Nutcracker suite.

But best of all, the tables that hosted all the students’ meals had been cleared and pushed out to the edges of the room, and they groaned under the weight of enough food to feed a small army.

Students were already lining up to load their plates, mingling with the equally hungry faculty. McAllister was at Keating’s side, gesturing enthusiastically to the record player. Charlie caught his eye and waved enthusiastically, heartened when he gave a small salute back. As they joined the line, he saw Spaz, a look of nearly comic regret on his face, being pulled into conversation with Nolan. He elbowed Knox, who shook his head pityingly.

“Poor sap,” he said, “he’ll be here ‘til he’s fifty. Ooh, look, creamed spinach!”

They loaded their plates. Charlie tuned out the heated argument behind him about who would win in a battle between Santa Claus and Krampus and focused on the feast before them. The predicted roast chicken, stuffed with chestnuts and rosemary. Honey ham with gravy. Mashed turnips and scalloped potatoes, creamy with garlic and butter. Sweetbread rolls! Biscuits! Cranberry sauce! Wrist aching with the weight of his plate, Charlie followed Neil to a corner of the room, where a cluster of chairs had been set.

“Bon appetite, gentlemen,” Neil said over the pleasant babble of voices that filled the room. Charlie was two steps ahead of him, already digging his fork into his mountain of food as Todd sat down next to Neil.

 _“God,_ this chicken,” Charlie moaned through a mouthful. Cameron rolled his eyes, taking a dainty bite of mashed potato.

“Keep it in your pants, Nuwanda,” Knox admonished, his cheeks bulging with ham.

Charlie swallowed, his throat working around an enormous bite.

“You’re one to talk, Knoxious,” he said. “When’s your next appointed jerk-off session to Chris? Six hours from now? Or will you have to duck out of the party early to find a bathroom somewhere?”

Meeks snorted so hard he inhaled a bit of food, and Knox, scowling, raised his voice to be heard over Pitts pounding him vigorously on the back.

“Actually, our next _date_ is in three days. The day after Christmas, so I can give her my gift.”

Charlie felt realization punch the mocking smile right off his stupid face. The _gift!_ As Knox blathered on, Charlie caught Neil’s eye across the circle of chairs, and widened his eyes in a silent question.

Neil, for some reason, looked close to panic. Charlie felt his brow wrinkle in confusion. Neil pressed his lips tightly together, glanced to his left, at Todd, and shook his head minutely, once.

“ - that I wrote,” Knox finished, punctuating his self-satisfied air by taking a huge bite out of a roll. He continued through his mouthful of bread. “When romance comes naturally to you as it does to me, you know the inner workings of a woman’s -”

“Finish that sentence right, Knoxious,” Charlie said automatically, and the resulting uproar brought conversation elsewhere long enough for Neil to hide the flush in his cheeks. But Knox had apparently seen the glances, or else his love-addled head had remembered what little he knew of Neil’s plight, because he took one look at Neil’s face and landed the killing blow.

“What about you, Neil?” Charlie cursed every god in dubious existence. “When are you seeing your Juliet?”

“Oh, you know. Sometime after Christmas,” Neil said, purposefully vague.

“What’d you get her?” Cameron piped up, popping the last bite of a biscuit in his mouth.

“Uh - nothing, yet,” Neil said, sounding sheepish, and Charlie felt the second wave of guilt wash over him, stronger this time.

“That’s no way to be,” Knox scolded. “How will she know you want her if you don’t give her something shiny?”

“That’s not - girls aren’t _magpies,_ Knoxious,” Neil said, starting to laugh helplessly. Knox flushed.

“Well - I’d know better than you!” he defended. “At least Chris knows I like her, and - news flash - that’s what got her to like me back! Persistence.” He pointed accusingly at Neil, who folded his arms. “You gotta make a move, Perry.”

“Yeah, c’mon, Neil. Honestly, I’m surprised,” Meeks chimed in. “I never took you for the shrinking violet type.”

Charlie had never wanted to strangle so many of his friends before, and that was saying something. But before he could do anything drastic, Neil continued, a defiant jerk in his chin.

 _Oh, God,_ Charlie had time to think as the other shoe dropped.

“Joke’s on you, Meeks. I’m making my move tomorrow. Christmas Eve. That’s -” he swallowed, visibly - “that’s when I’ll tell her.”

Next to him, Todd jerked, then entered a coughing fit of such ferocity it halted the conversation. Neil, concerned, put a hand on his upper back and patted.

“You okay?” He asked worriedly, and Todd turned away from him, nodding, his face beet red.

“You need the Heimlich? Cough once for yes and twice for no,” Charlie said, only half joking, and Todd shook his head. Finally, he spoke, voice hoarse and eyes darting.

“Suh-suh-sorry. Rogue piece of p-potato.”

“Guess we’re done talking about Neil’s love life,” Knox joked, “since every time we mention it Todd goes into anaphylactic shock.”

No one laughed. Todd, if possible, turned a darker shade of red. There was a brief beat of awkward silence, and, desperate, Charlie turned conversation to the end of term.

“Well, even if some of us have big plans -” and he shot Neil a look that he hoped conveyed _we WILL be talking about this later -_ “I’m dreading going home.”

“Why, too many Christmas gifts from doting family members?” Cameron asked sarcastically.

“Something like that,” Charlie agreed, grateful to feel the last of the tension diffuse. “Three maiden aunts just on my mom’s side. I don’t think my cheeks will survive all the pinching.”

“I’m just not looking forward to seeing my grades,” Pitts said dourly. “The Poets’ meetings have been swell, but I skipped more homework this semester than the last three years combined. My father’ll have my butt on a platter if I didn’t keep up my average.”

“I’m with you on that, Pitts,” Neil sighed. “You heard my father at the beginning of the term, making me quit the school annual because he was so afraid of me not getting my work done. If my grades dropped at _all -”_

“What if he finds out about the play?” Todd interrupted nervously. Neil grimaced.

“Hopefully he never will. If he does - well, he’s already hell-bent on making me go to medical school. What could he make me do that’s worse than that?”

“Kill you?” Charlie suggested. Knox threw an elbow into his side, and even Cameron gave him a dirty look.

“Yeah, probably,” was all Neil said, blowing a breath through puffed cheeks.

“Well, don’t just accept it!” Todd burst out. Neil turned to him in surprise, and he flushed. “I - I j-just mean - well - don’t you think there’s _any_ way to convince him that - that acting is -”

“C’mon, Todd, get a clue,” Neil said. His voice was tired and derisive, and Charlie realized abruptly why he hated the tone - it was all Mr. Perry, speaking through him, showcasing all the little ways his poison had been able to leech into Neil’s thoughts. “You think I haven’t tried? He’ll only ever see me as his son. His _property._ The only way I’ll get away from what he _knows is best_ is if I run away for good.”

“Then do it,” Charlie said, into the silence. Anger was bubbling hot somewhere under his collarbone, not at Neil but at the ways he was tamped down, forced to inhabit his father’s little box of _dutiful son_ even as it pressed the life out of him. Neil looked up, surprised, but Charlie barreled on, warming to the idea. “Like we were saying the other night, remember - buy a one-way ticket to New York city. Rent some little dive with four other dudes, sleep on boards for a few months, then _boom!_ Make it on Broadway!”

Even though Charlie had tried to frame it as a joke, his voice lighthearted, Neil was looking thoughtfully off into the distance.

“I might,” he said. “I have a little money saved up - not much, but a bit - and I -” he broke off, shaking his head and grinning in the hangdog way he usually reserved for Charlie’s stupider ideas. “Never mind. Let’s say we get down to -” he paused, and as he grew still, the whole circle seemed to draw in a breath. His eyes sparkled with more mischief than Puck could hope to dream up. “ - Operation Egg?”

There was a scramble of excitement. Knox grinned and rubbed his hands together as Pitts opened his messenger bag and drew out the neatly wrapped box of cookies. Neil sprang to his feet, and Knox joined him as soon as the cookies were in his hands.

“Hurry, _they’re putting out the desserts!”_ Charlie hissed.

As Knox and Neil headed towards the kitchen door, trying to look casual, Charlie felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“Charlie? Can you - t-talk for a second?” Todd asked, voice low.

Charlie glanced at Knox, who was giving his best sons-of-alumni smile to the kitchen manager, box of cookies in hand, then back at Todd. His expression was casual, but his hands gave him away - they were twisting at the bottom of his sleeve, white-knuckled with nervousness.

“I - yeah, sure,” Charlie said, catching a glimpse of Neil ducking successfully behind the first of the long tables. Todd tugged his arm, lips pressed tightly together, and they slipped away from the party, out into the chill of the corridor.

“What’s the big idea, Anderson?” Charlie asked, trying not to let a hint of annoyance into his voice - he knew that, at times of emotional turmoil, the slightest sign of impatience would send Todd into a spiral of stuttering apologies. After a few more tense moments, Todd drew a breath, then let it out harshly.

“How do - how do I tuh-tuh-tell suh-someone - if someone - if I - if I luh-luh- _like_ someone - a guh-girl - how do I tell her?”

For a second, Charlie could only stare.

“You - you really need romantic advice _now?”_ he asked, bewildered by the abysmal timing. “What, Neil finally infect you with his dumbassery?”

He could have kept going. There were dozens of good chewings-out on the tip of his tongue, and he opened his mouth, feeling vindicated - but he took a closer look, and something in Todd’s face pulled him up short. He was red, of course, with embarrassment, but there was an unexpected fragility in the set of his mouth, and Charlie realized with an unpleasant shock that he was about to cry.

“Hey, hey. You know I’m joking, I don’t actually mind,” he backpedaled. “Did you - who even is this girl?”

Todd opened his mouth, straining to speak, but all that came out were little stutters of air. He looked down at his hands, twisting the hem of his sweater so hard that a few threads began to unravel.

“I - I -” he ground out, barely above a whisper, “Sh - she’s one of my friends. At a - a different school.”

Charlie frowned. Some deep, nagging little voice told him, small but insistent, that if he pushed, Todd’s already shaky determination would crumble completely, and something irretrievable would be lost. There was something going on that didn’t add up, something that dug much deeper than an idle crush. Neil, for some reason, came unbidden to Charlie’s mind; just yesterday, he’d leaned across Todd’s lap to snag his book from the coffee table, and Todd’s hard blush had distracted from his tiny, covert smile.

“I, uh,” he stalled, confused by the seeming non-sequitor his brain had pulled, and Todd looked up sharply. There was a thinly veiled panic in his eyes, something deeply furtive but oddly familiar. He realized what it reminded him of - Neil, again, back in the study room, when Knox had made some joke about Todd - _suffering from Anderson Proximity Disease?_ \- and Neil had reacted with that same startling panic, like a deer scenting a fire. Charlie’s brain flicked through memories unprompted: Todd jumping on Neil during the euphoric dash of a soccer game, enveloped in golden sunlight. Neil leaning on Todd during a Poet’s meeting, weeks ago, and the way he’d relaxed into it after his initial twitch of apprehension. Todd telling Neil about something Keating had said, his face animated and his stutter barely there, and Charlie thinking it was the first time he’d seen Todd look really alive.

_Oh. Oh - shit._

It was _Neil._

The idea was so foreign, so strange, that for a moment Charlie didn’t realize he was thinking it at all. _Todd and - Neil._ There was another flash of association, images filling his head. The leering men in normal-looking cars from the PSA films, headlines shown by somber teachers of boys gone missing, taken by the homosexual who seemed friendly, not sick, until the next body surfaced in a river or a ditch.

Then Charlie blinked, and it was just Todd. No grinning phantom bent on rape - just Todd, in the shadowed hallway with his eyes wide and his fingers picking ever harder at his sweater’s hem.

He couldn’t be. He was one of the Poets, one of Charlie’s friends - he’d shared jokes and laughter and classes and meals with him, with all of them. He’d given Charlie a pat of silent reassurance this morning as they entered Hager’s classroom. If he really was a homosexual, wouldn’t any of them have _noticed?_

 _Neil noticed,_ a nasty little voice inCharlie’s mind piped up, but even as he recoiled from it,there was another memory: this time of Neil, reaching out to fix the collar of Todd’s shirt. His smile had been softer than Charlie had ever seen it.

_What if Neil was - ?_

The silence had stretched several seconds too long by the time Todd spoke again.

“Nuh-nuh-never mind, Ch-Charlie. We can g-go back t-to the puh-puh-party - s-suh-s-s-suh-sorry -”

Charlie snapped back to attention. Scrambling, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“No, no, Todd, I’ll - I’ll tell you. What you’ve gotta do is never, _ever_ let her know.”

_Yup. Nailed it, Dalton._

Todd’s eyebrows drew together in clear confusion. Charlie plowed on, snapping together the pieces of the puzzle as he let his mouth run to cover the realization.

“No, listen. You tell her, she gets freaked even if she does like you, she rejects you. Three-step system. I’ve seen it a hundred times. What you gotta do is -” and he paused. Todd’s eyes were glued to his face, and when Charlie met them, he no longer saw fear or hesitance, but desperation. There was recklessness that Charlie recognized with a jolt from too many late-night escapades with Neil: moments after a broken glass or slammed door, the jig up, hysteria rising, and just on the verge of doing something absolutely, irreversibly stupid.

“ - you watch and wait,” Charlie finished slowly, his brain working triple-time. If he was right, and Neil was - well, if Todd’s feelings were returned, then this sort of confession would end the misery for everyone. But if Charlie sent Todd off to tell Neil about his illicit feelings, and Neil really was after some girl - the consequences would be unimaginable. “You’re a shy kind of person, Todd, but that means you know how to read people. Look for the signs to be completely _sure_ before you go making some big declaration. Like, uh, little touches, or always sitting next to you, or - I don’t know, dumb stuff. Looking at you after a joke to see if it was funny. Potentially,” he covered quickly, because Todd was getting that panicky look again. There was a moment of silence that stretched long enough for Charlie’s worries about his admittedly dubious advice to sink in.

“Wh - what if I’m tired of waiting?” Todd said, finally, so quiet that Charlie leaned forward to hear him. “What if I - what if th-thuh-this is my last chance on a puh-pretty important choice, and I’m scuh-scuh-scared to _death_ that I’ll muh-muh-make the wrong one?”

Charlie thought of Neil, and the smile he seemed to reserve for Todd specifically. He thought of the hundreds of hours of meetings and classes and meals where Neil swung into the seat next to Todd, his grin holding a bit of challenge, until by unspoken law the seat on Todd’s right remained, until Neil’s arrival, empty. He thought of everything he knew of Neil, his best friend, and of bravery and consequence. He looked up to see Todd’s eyes still trained on his face. Desperate.

“Wait a little longer, Anderson,” Charlie said, as reassuringly as he knew how. “I’ll work on it.”

* * * * *

By the time they got back into the dining hall, weaving through clumps of people dancing to the Christmas tunes that had at some point bested the Tchaikovsky, the party was in full swing. Charlie spotted their friends tucked in the shadows of an ivy-covered niche, and when they got a little closer, Neil whipped around, waving them over with a manic grin.

“Charlie! We _got it!”_ he said in a strangled whisper. Behind him, Meeks was passing out cups, his conspiratorial smile so wide that just looking at it made Charlie’s face hurt.

“Nuwanda! Get over here, we waited for you and everything,” Knox said. In both hands, reverent with the prospect of debauchery, he cradled an enormous pitcher of eggnog.

“You crazy bastards,” Charlie said, allowing himself a moment, soft wonderment filling his voice as he gazed upon their prize. _“Four. Years._ Four years in the running and we finally _did it!”_

“All thanks to your plan,” Neil said, generous as always. “It went off _perfectly._ Perfectly, Charlie. Knox gave ‘em the cookies -”

“You should’ve seen him,” Knox said, laughing, “So confused - ‘Overstreet, isn’t it? I - I don’t think - a student has never in Welton history given anything for the food table -’”

“ - and I was behind the table the whole time -”

“Neil grabbed it right out from under his _nose -”_

“ - Knox distracted him, I almost spilled it, but we got it,” Neil finished, breathless with delight. A cup was pressed into Charlie’s hand, and he raised it. His eyes caught on Todd for a moment, who clutched his own cup distractedly. His sleeve was fraying in earnest, now, the threads coming apart around a widening hole.

“Tonight, gentlemen,” Charlie said, trying to give a good impression of the triumphant mastermind he should have been, “we drink like _kings.”_

The eggnog was sweet and still warm, just a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg swirling under the creamy froth on top. Oh, and there it was, the delicate aftertaste - enough rum to kill a fuckin’ _horse._

Charlie surfaced from his glass, sputtering at the rip-roaring burn of alcohol in his nose.

“Who _made_ this?” He gasped as Pitts smacked his lips.

“There is definitely whiskey in here,” he proclaimed.

“All the better for us,” Knox said, his mischievous smile spreading into something almost evil. “Gentlemen. Let’s _party!”_

All through that night, hour after hour, Charlie warred between the pleasant haze of his growing tipsiness and the stress of watching Todd watch Neil. Normally, Todd carried a cringing sort of shyness, something about the hunch of his shoulders begging people so hard not to look at him that they usually obliged out of some instinctive sympathy. Even after months of purposefully seeing Todd, of coaxing him into conversations and study groups and Poet’s meetings, Charlie usually had a hard time gleaning his emotions from his face - he kept it still and neutral, another layer of protection over his painfully tender heart.

But tonight, through some combination of misery and alcohol and wretched, last-chance bravery, Todd lost his usual mask of shyness. He looked at Neil, surrounded by laughter as he regaled some story, and every line of his face was open, a live wire of hurt and wish and wanting.He’d close his eyes briefly, take a long pull from his drink, then go straight back to watching Neil, like a man staring at the sun, as if turning away from the exquisite pain hurt him more than accepting it.

Charlie wanted to shake him. He felt pity, even as his brain struggled to accommodate the startling nature of its source, but mostly he felt fear. What would happen if someone else happened to glance over and notice the miserable adoration rolling off Todd in waves? They’d trace it back to Neil, and - and -

Neil. Charlie’s best friend, who could pull laughter from a brick wall, who was as intelligent as he was sensitive, who played soccer and loved fencing and could shift between fifty different characters with a quirk of the mouth or a droop of the eye. Neil, who felt everything as hard and as unapologetically as he could. Todd was always a bit - strange. In a way, Charlie could see him being homosexual, just another facet of his difference from this world he seemed constantly at odds with. But Neil? Neil, who threw himself headfirst into the world, who the world seemed to part for?

Charlie watched Neil, dancing the twist with his arm slung around Knox’s shoulder, and he bit his lip. Even if Neil wasn’t - wasn’t homosexual, then he would never want to hurt Todd. Charlie prodded at this suspicion. If he knew anything to be true about Neil, it was that he could be trusted. Charlie had trusted him with his own secrets for years, and now Todd was asking Charlie to trust Neil with his.

“Neil,” Charlie said as he shoved through groups of people, resolve set. He couldn’t look at Todd for one more second. Neil looked over, a grin splitting his face. He was flushed up to his forehead.

“Nuwanda!” He said, dark eyes snapping with delight. “C’mere, c’mere. Do the twist.”

“I don’t want to dance, Neil,” Charlie protested. It was useless. Neil grabbed one hand and Knox grabbed the other.

“Don’t be a square, Charlie,” Knox scolded, “it’s Christmas. Do the -” he hiccuped slightly - “do the jitterbug.”

“I -” Charlie surrendered. It was that or go down and be trampled on the stone floor. “Neil, I have to - to talk to you.”

“What about?” Neil asked easily.

“About T -” Charlie bit his tongue, hard. The candles were blurring together in their sconces, the whole room a mess of gold light and dense dark. Only Neil’s face was in focus. _Focus, Dalton._ “About - what we were saying before. The gift.”

Neil shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment as if in pain.

“I’ve given up on that, Charlie,” he said, with the blithe wisdom of the drunk. “I’m resigned to my - my fate. Let me have one more night before my life is ruined.”

Charlie opened his mouth, furious at Neil’s dramatics, because it wasn’t even about him anymore, it was about _Todd._ But he caught himself, and just in time; Knox’s head was swiveling between them as if watching a tennis match.

“Is this about Neil’s lady-love?” He asked, and Charlie’s mouth snapped shut. Neil sighed, wistful.

“Don’t speak of it,” he said, laying a finger across Knox’s lips. Then, before Charlie could do anything else, he was breaking away and making a beeline for Cameron, Pitts and Meeks, who still sat in the shadowed alcove, inconspicuously guarding the eggnog. Knox watched him go, disappointed, then turned to Charlie.

“Dance with me, Nuwanda,” He crooned, hands falling from Charlie’s shoulders to his waist, and _whoa,_ was it _catching_ around here?

“You got a girlfriend already, Knoxious,” Charlie said, barely joking. “Watch where you’re putting those hands.”

Knox just snickered, stupid and happy with whiskey, and Charlie sighed, looking around for Todd. He spotted a blonde head bobbing slowly towards the alcove, and he tugged on Knox’s wrist.

“C’mon, let’s go back over. I need a little more to drink.”

“Second - second _that_ emotion,” Knox hiccuped, content to follow.

By the time they got there, Neil was bringing yet another glass to his lips, everyone cheering and laughing. Knox immediately joined in.

_“Chug! Chug! Chug!”_

Even Cameron was smiling a little. Todd was, too, but still he was _watching,_ his eyes dark and full, Neil the center of his world. _How was no one else noticing this?_

“Neil,” Charlie said, his voice coming out desperate, a bit too loud, “I gotta talk to you.”

Neil tipped his head back to drain his glass. He put it down, and his eyes, when they met Charlie’s, held all the determined cheer of wilful ignorance.

“Neil’s gotta talk to the _kitchen,_ Charlie,” Meeks laughed, glasses askew. “He just drank our whole party dry!”

“I don’t think anyone here needs more alcohol, Steven,” Cameron said prissily, loosening his tie around his neck.

“I don’t even want any more,” Neil said, wiping his mouth. “Let’s all go dance. I could use something to do.”

A new hit was on - _Jingle Bell Rock._ Charlie followed them all out to the edge of the room, his heart in his throat. Neil and Todd were walking together, bumping shoulders every so often.

“C’mere, Todd,” Neil said, smiling. “I’ll teach you the twist.”

They danced as the party began to drift to an end around them. Charlie relaxed in spite of himself, starting to get caught up in the high spirits of his friends. Pitts grabbed Meeks at the end of a song and dipped him like a girl, and Charlie laughed as hard as the rest of them at the look on his face - eyes wide, cheeks flushed with rum, his mouth a little round _O_ of surprise.

Neil was the tipsiest of all, but he wasn’t a sloppy drunk - in fact, the opposite. His charms seemed to increase tenfold, his eyes growing brighter, his usual conspiratorial grin expanding until he seemed to be inviting the whole world in on some great joke. He even had Spaz laughing along with them when he roped Charlie into playing keep-away with his inhaler. Accordingly, everyone’s mood was high. And Todd, Charlie saw, was hypnotized.

He stuck close by Neil’s side, not moving to touch him, but not flinching away as he usually did when Neil patted his hand or brushed a piece of hair back from his eyes. He was tipsy too, drunk as much on Neil’s attention as the eggnog. There were bright roses in his cheeks, his movements loose and careless in a way Charlie had never seen, and he kept listing one way or another like he was on the deck of a ship until Neil pulled him back upright.

A slower song came on: Judy Garland crooning about having yourself a merry little Christmas. Charlie, holding Knox’s hands, swayed gently back and forth. He felt great. There was a pleasant buzz behind his eyes, and his feet seemed anchored securely to the floor, his body warm and heavy.

“If Chris were here, I’d kiss her to this song,” Knox mumbled, his face on Charlie’s shoulder. Pitts glanced over, his eyebrows flying up.

“You seem to be doing alright with Charlie, Knoxious,” he teased. Neil looked over too, heedless of Todd by his side.

“I’ll kiss you, Knox,” Neil said, face alight with laughter. “I’m a good actor. Here, pretend I’m Chris.”

“You’re not - not _blonde,_ Neil,” Knox said, raising his head with some effort. Charlie felt his face flush with prickly heat.

“Neither am _I,”_ he said.

“You’re up, Anderson,” Pitts said. Neil was practically doubled over at this point, but Charlie watched as his head swung quickly around to Todd.

“N-nuh-not my type,” Todd said. Laughter rang out around the loose circle they’d formed. “Suh-sorry, Knox.”

“What _is_ your type, pretty girl?” Neil asked, like he couldn’t resist, and Charlie felt his heart skip a beat before it plummeted down into his stomach. All the laughter had fled from Todd’s face - he looked like an animal in a trap. His eyes darted around the room, the low-burning candles, the tables, anywhere but Neil’s face.

“I -I - uh, don’t - nuh-nuh-no one -” he tried, but it was too late. Knox was levering himself out of Charlie’s arms, finger raised triumphantly.

“Audrey - Audrey H-” hiccup - “Hepburn, remember, Todd, you told me.” Todd looked like he wanted to die.

“Y-yuh-yeah, I - I - I, uh, guh-guess I -”

Knox cut him off as he barreled on, clueless.

“Y’know - you know who kinda looks like Audrey Hepburn?” He didn’t wait for an answer, high on the others’ hysterical laughter. Meeks was clutching Pitts’ arm, his eyes streaming. Knox reached out and dragged Neil forward. “Brown eyes. Brown hair. Big - big dark eyebrows. Put him in a dress and - ‘n you’ve - you’ve got her,” and _boy_ did Charlie take that back about Neil being the tipsiest in the room. How in the holy hell had Knox been able to drink that much?

“Real funny, Knox,” Neil said, but he was laughing too. He held his arms out, hands crooked daintily at the wrists, and twirled. The skirt he called to mind was almost visible.

“Pr - pruh - oh, god - pretty, r-right, Todd?” Knox said, laughing so hard he could barely get it out. He grabbed Todd’s arm, pointed up to the - oh, _fuck -_ the mistletoe that hung from the archway above their heads. “My Christmas gift to you, Todd. Christmas kiss with - with Audrey Hepburn.”

Time seemed to move in slow motion. Pitts and Meeks shoved Neil forward under the arch, caught up in the joke, and Todd looked blankly panicked as Knox manhandled him over.

“Go on, Audrey,” Knox guffawed, and Charlie felt glued to the floor. He watched Neil’s wide eyes shift onto Todd’s face and soften, his smile shrink down from a huge grin to something small and secret, the exact moment it stopped being a joke. He put two fingers under Todd’s chin, indescribably gentle, like he was tilting a flower up to smell it. Charlie felt wrong watching it. This was wrong, this was all wrong - it couldn’t happen like this, in a dark room full of people, with the other Poets’ heckling ringing out above the noise of a shrinking crowd. Neil was leaning down, just slightly, eyes fluttering shut, and Todd’s face was getting whiter and whiter -

“I -” was all the warning they got before Todd convulsed, an odd, sloping roll of the shoulders, and then he was ripping himself away from Neil to vomit on the floor.

“Oh, _gosh -”_ someone said, but Todd was already disappearing, pale as cheese, both hands pressed over his mouth.

Neil’s face had snapped shut into something entirely blank. He sucked a painful-sounding breath in over his teeth, and then he was scrambling for the opposite door. Charlie started after him, but Meeks grabbed his arm and tugged sharply, danger in the tightness of his grip.

“What’s all this, then? Was that Anderson?” Nolan’s voice boomed out, catastrophic as a thunderclap. Charlie winced.

“Yessir,” Cameron piped up, and for once in his life Charlie was grateful for him. “Something at dinner didn’t agree with him, sir. He - the dancing was too much.”

Nolan sighed, barely glancing down at the mess.

“Poor boy. Tell him to go down to the infirmary if his stomach hasn’t settled by tomorrow.” They nodded dutifully at the floor, not daring to look at each other. Nolan checked his watch. “If I recall, this party ended at 11:30. Off to bed, all of you. And do be punctual for breakfast tomorrow.”

They filed out of the dining hall. The corridors were cold, the mood colder.

“I - I thought it was just a lark,” Knox whispered to Charlie, uncertain, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to be angry.

They made it to the dormitory hallway. Before he slipped into his room, Charlie stopped outside Todd and Neil’s. He hesitated a second before knocking.

“Neil?” He called, soft, but there was no answer. He suddenly felt nausea creeping up, as if being close to Todd’s room lent him Todd’s turmoil.

Charlie collapsed on his bed, facedown on his pillow. His head was a mess of tangled thoughts. He tried picking them apart, but all he could seem to get was Neil’s face, glimmering, hopeful, looking down at Todd. He fell asleep almost immediately, four minutes before Christmas Eve, blind to the snow that had started to fall, soft as feathers, past his window.

* * * * *

Charlie woke with a ranging hangover. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to the soft meat of his brain. What had been a pleasant buzzing in his head last night had morphed into the unending roar of a commercial jet. He rubbed his eyes and sat up with a low moan, wrinkling his nose at the smell of his slept-in shirt.

Cameron was already gone, bed neatly made as usual. Great. He’d probably missed breakfast. He snagged his watch from his bedside table and waited for the numbers to swim into his vision. 8:23 - breakfast was a lost cause.

Charlie changed his clothes, splashed some cold water on his face, and brushed the fuzz out of his mouth. Something tugged him down the hallway, but not towards the stairs or the dining hall. He stopped outside Neil’s door.

“Neil?” He croaked. The words scraped over his throat. “Todd? Anybody home?”

He tried the handle. Locked, of course, so someone was in there. He frowned, pressing upwards on the handle, hard, and turning it to the left before the right. The bum lock clicked open, as it always had.

The room was freezing, which made sense given the window standing open, spilling equal parts snow and bright white daylight over the floor. It was also empty of inhabitants, both beds cold and lonely, Neil’s rumpled and Todd’s made. Charlie shivered, taking one of Neil’s older sweaters from the closet and pulling it on over his own. He made his way over to the window and stuck his head out.

The windowsill was an easy ledge, despite being two stories off the ground. He climbed out, trying very hard not to look down, the snow burning his bare palms as he inched to the end of the sill. From there, an easy scramble up the slope of the roof.

“Hey,” Charlie said. Neil looked up, his eyes seeming to focus from somewhere far away. His face was pale but for his nose and cheeks, which were scarlet with cold. Snow had melted in his hair and fallen on his shoulders, on the thick blanket he’d wrapped around them.

Charlie sat next to him, wincing as the cold soaked through the butt of his pants. “You look horrible,” he told Neil, and was gratified to see a hint of a smile.

“Thanks a lot.” Neil hugged his knees a bit tighter, then lifted the corner of the quilt. Charlie scooted in, grateful for the warmth.

“It’s fuckin’ freezing. You been up here all night?” Charlie asked after a moment. Neil offered only a shake of his head. They had a perfect view of the grounds, the wide, sweeping lawn untouched, a blank canvas sloping down to the snow-crusted forest and the burnished silver of the lake. The sun was like a dull coin, barely peeping between low-slung, misty clouds that seemed to breathe the threat of more snow. From behind them, at the front of the school, they could faintly hear the last-day-of-term noises, already starting up: car doors slamming, voices calling back and forth, parents arriving to collect sons.

“You, uh, seen Todd at all?” Charlie said, a tentative push, and Neil let out a hissing breath through his teeth. He seemed to contract into himself. The shoulder touching Charlie’s under the blanket drew away, tense as a wire.

“It - last night didn’t mean anything,” Neil said. Charlie turned to him in surprise. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, as if he could will himself to some far-away point in space. “I was drunk, and caught up in the joke, that’s all. It wasn’t - real.” He said the words like they were lines he’d studied, like he was a character in the world’s most dispassionate play. His jaw was set stubbornly, as if braced for a blow.

It was a look Charlie had seen Neil wear hundreds of times, after hundreds of conversations with his father. He realized with a shock that Neil had been bracing himself all along; against this world of rigid expectations they inhabited, of stern husbands in suits and pretty wives in housedresses and a degree on the wall. He’d been fighting it all his life, what was expected of him, what his father, what the _world_ wanted from a Wellton graduate with a 3.9 grade point average. What was yet another desire for something out of the ordinary, something that people like his father looked down on with disgust? Another facet of his difference?

“I - if it was real,” Charlie said, so slowly, trying so very hard, “if you _were_ \- I wouldn’t care.” Neil turned to look at him, eyebrows drawing just barely together. His eyes were darker than usual as he searched Charlie’s face. “Neil, it’s - fine. It’s okay.”

There was a beat of silence between them, a moment of disbelief that turned sweet as Neil gasped a little laugh. He turned forward again, away, but his shoulder found Charlie’s under the blanket, warm and reassured.

“Tell that to Todd,” Neil said hoarsely, his eyes a little too bright. “He didn’t seem to get the memo.”

“I -” Charlie tried to dredge something up that was the right mix of supportive, firm and reassuring. “Because you kissed him at a party in front of _the entire school,_ you idiot,” was what came out.

Neil’s head snapped up.

“There’s no chance, Charlie. He doesn’t want - he wants some pretty girl who writes poems and goes to museums and reads Whitman like he does.” He snorted, derisive, dropping his face into his hands. His thumbs massaged circles into his temples, like his headache rivaled Charlie’s own. “Audrey _Hepburn.”_

“That’s - that’s not even - you _know_ that was a cover, right? He doesn’t give a shit about Audrey Hepburn. Knox fuckin’ asked him who he likes and he went and spat out the first movie star he could think of, who, _by the way,_ you kind of fucking look like, Neil.” Charlie remembered that night, spread out by the fire, and the way Todd’s eyes hadn’t left his hands, which clenched and unclenched, white-knuckled with the lie as he whispered it out. It was so painfully obvious, all of it, now that he knew - he couldn’t believe Neil couldn’t see.

Neil wasn’t looking, instead opting to stare holes in the roof. Charlie continued, resisting the urge to grab Neil and shake the truth into him, force it over his determined hopelessness. He was a stubborn as ever, and had latched onto his failure with the same tenacity that gave him success.

“Neil. Seriously. Have you ever seen the way he looks at you? The way he looked at you last night? I -” he couldn’t find words to describe it. “I’ve never seen anyone look like that. It’s not even how Knox looks at Chris. It was like he wanted to - to eat you.”

Neil was looking at him, now, a wrinkle of concentration in his forehead. He still didn’t seem convinced.

“He - ? He was - okay, maybe he likes to make eyes at me. But then I - if he really -” he swallowed, visibly, “ - really _wanted_ me, why wouldn’t he -” Neil broke off in frustration, grabbing a handful of snow and crushing it to ice in his palm. “He _puked when I kissed him,_ Charlie. That’s usually a pretty good indicator someone’s not interested.”

“Neil - this is _Todd_ we’re talking about,” Charlie said, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Our good friend Todd, who said all of three words when we met him the first day of term? He had to be blindfolded and spun in circles before he’d read a poem in Keating’s class? Party? _A hundred people?_ Remember those little details?” He laughed, humorlessly. “Hell, _I_ like Audrey Hepburn. But if she tried to kiss me in front of a hundred people, I’d probably lose my lunch too.”

Neil inhaled what might have been a laugh. Then he seemed to sink, settling back into a smaller, sadder posture. A hunch came over his shoulders, a baleful grin to his face.

“I got the Christmas gift,” he said softly, and Charlie just blinked for a moment, thrown by the change in topic. “Two one-way tickets to Grand Central Station. I’ve been going out early every morning for months. Shoveling snow, raking leaves. Taking odd jobs for people all the time. I fixed a fella’s car when he broke down a few nights back. I - I’ve been thinking about this for _months,_ Charlie, and when he said he’d like to go to New York it was like he was pulling my dreams from my head.” He grabbed at his own hair, smoothing it back from his face hard so that his eyes pulled back sharply. “This isn’t some kind of - of stupid crush. He makes me feel like - I can’t say,” he gasped, and Charlie couldn’t look away. Neil, heart on his sleeve as always, was practically in half, torn between elation and despair. “I could do it if I were with him. Run away from my father, go to New York, just act for the rest of my life. God, but he makes me feel brave.” He looked up, finally, and the look in his eyes was so big and unnamed it sent a jolt through Charlie’s heart. “If he - if there’s _any_ chance he doesn’t feel the same, then, Charlie, I think I’d -”

“He asked me how to tell you that he likes you,” Charlie blurted out. “He pulled me away from the party last night, right after you said you were gonna confess to some girl, and was so nervous he almost puked on _me._ He said he was tired of waiting. If that doesn’t convince you, Neil, you _dumbass,_ I don’t know what w -”

He was cut off by Neil twisting around, fast as a snake, to grip at his upper arms. His eyes were like saucers in his face.

“What did you tell him,” Neil stated, out of breath, not a question. “Charlie, what did you tell h -”

“I told him to wait,” Charlie said. He felt a little hiss of shame at the memory, at _but it’s Neil, he couldn’t, there’s no way he could be._ “I - I had to make sure he didn’t go and - and tell you something like that if - if you weren’t - if you didn’t. I had to make sure you felt the same way. That’s why I was trying to talk to you all night.”

The sun was coming up truly now, dazzling bands of bright gold alternating with the powder-blue shadows the trees cast. The earth glittered like something out of a snow globe. The morning burst forth through the clouds, and Neil was glowing, radiant, expanding like a star.

“I’ll tell him,” he said, softly, like he was testing the words, then, louder, “I’ll _tell him!_ Charlie - thank you.”

Neil hugged him, tight, arms as warm as his face was cold.

“Neil,” Charlie replied, hugging back, and _yeah,_ there was his heart, just melting with gooey Hallmark Christmas feelings. “Why’d you tell me if you had this whole plan worked out from the beginning?”

Neil pulled back, his sheepish grin in place.

“I mean - I never thought it would _work,”_ he said. “Maybe some part of me knew you’d find a way to pull it off.” He smiled bigger, eyes overbright again, and _oh_ _God if he made Charlie cry right now his Christmas present was going to be a fist to the face._ “Who else could I tell? It’s been you, me, and crazy plans from the get-go.”

“Alright, you bastard,” Charlie squeezed out around the lump in his throat. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas. You owe me one, or, I don’t know, like, twelve. Let’s go find Todd.”

Neil leapt up, electrified, and spun, right there on the rooftop.

 _“YAWP!”_ He bellowed to the sky. His smile rivaled it in brightness.

They scrambled back down through the window, and Neil took a deep breath. He looked like he might puke, now. _Audrey Hepburn,_ Charlie thought, and had to suppress an idiotic giggle.

“Will you -” Neil started, and Charlie was already nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll track him down. Go wait in the courtyard.”

Neil clapped his hand down on Charlie’s shoulder, like a promise, then swept from the room, beaming.

Charlie stood for a second, trying to let everything soak in.

 _One last favor for these idiots,_ he thought fondly. He shook his head and went to get Todd.

* * * * *

Turned out, he wasn’t that hard to find. Charlie cut through he hallways, peeping through doors, weaving through the occasional group of mothers, fathers, and little siblings who had come to collect one student or another. The babble of voices, low as it was, made his head hurt. It was a relief to spot a familiar blonde head pillowed on the arm of the hard little couch in the downstairs study room.

Todd looked up when he heard the door creak. His eyes were swollen almost shut, his nose pink, as if he’d fallen asleep crying. Charlie felt his heart contract with pity.

“Morning, Anderson,” he said, as cheerfully as he could, “up off the couch.”

Todd shook his head, mute.

“Don’t you want to know who’s looking for you?” Charlie coaxed, plucking at Todd’s sleeve. The hole was worse. “I talked to him this morning. Tall, dark, handsome? N -”

“Stop,” Todd said bluntly. Charlie fell silent, mouth agape. “I - I - I c-can’t s-stuh-st-stand it, Charlie.”

“Whaaaa -” was as far as Charlie got before Todd was sitting up, his hair dishevelled, swiping fiercely at his eyes. Then the realization dawned, though it was almost unthinkable - Todd was _angry._

“I tuh-tuh-told you, Charlie. What’s been kuh-kuh- _killing_ me fuh-fuh-for m-months. And you acted luh-luh-like you uh-uh-uh - und - under - _understood._ You suh-suh-said you’d _wuh-wuh-work on it._ And th-then you and Knox muh-muh-make it into some b-buh-big _joke?”_ His hands were shaking in his lap. Charlie felt sick. “A-a-Audrey Hepburn. Ruh-ruh-ruh - ruh - r-real funny, _Nuwanda.”_

“God, Todd, I’m sorry,” Charlie said, heart pounding in his ears. “Look. No, look at me. That wasn’t me, that was all Knox, that fuckin’ idiot wouldn’t know blood alcohol content if it bit him. I was trying to find out if Neil was - uh,” and he stalled because Todd had looked up, mouth set and trembling. “Well - I found out. Neil, um. Didn’t kiss you as a joke.”

Todd blinked, slowly, twice, like a man who’d been hit in the head with a brick.

“What?” He asked, calm. Charlie held out his hand.

“I should - uh, I should really let him tell you,” Charlie said. “But he - there never was any girl. I was helping him keep you a secret all along.”

Todd was still blinking. Now he looked drugged, like he’d been shot full of dope.

“Oh,” was all he said, faintly. Then, “Alright.”

Slowly, he took Charlie’s hand.

They wove back through the hallways at nearly breakneck speed, occasionally jostling someone who didn’t move out of the way fast enough. One man gave an indignant, “Watch it, son!” as they brushed past him, probably getting an unsightly fleck of dust on his pristine suit jacket. Charlie realized he had no idea how much time they had left - Mr. Perry could have already come and stolen Neil away. He poured on a little more speed, pulling Todd behind him.

They got to the courtyard flushed and panting. Neil startled when he saw them, his hands flying up to his chest to tangle nervously together. Todd wouldn’t look directly at him, instead staring at his shoes, his pockets, the sky off to his left. Silence. Charlie broke it.

“Well?” He said, cold and sweaty and, honestly, kind of pissed. “I’ve done my job. You two idiots finally _talk_ to each other, please, for the love of everything holy,” and it worked, because Todd was looking up at Neil, giving him a bemused grin, and Neil was struggling to contain his laughter, his eyes crinkling up in the corners.

“Todd - will you walk with me?” Neil asked, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, his grin turning nervous. “I want to talk. And, uh, give you your Christmas present, if you’ll have it.”

“Yeah,” Todd said, breathless but not stuttering. Steady. “Alright.”

They didn’t break eye contact. Neil was leaning down, just barely, cheeks flushed maybe with cold but likely with shameless infatuation. Charlie glanced nervously around. Voices sounded from inside.

“Go, go, for god’s sake, go kiss in the woods, just not here,” Charlie hissed, and Todd jerked back, embarrassed. Neil laughed out loud, and they were all grinning, all part of this secret club of fools, this comedy of errors. Finally, they stepped towards the edge of the courtyard.

 _Thank you,_ Neil mouthed, and they walked off together, over the crisp snow.

Charlie nodded, and, the moment their backs were turned, made a dash for the staircase. He got through the hallway, back to the dormitories, shoving past Cameron, who dropped his suitcase with a _thunk_.

“What the _fuck,_ Dalton,” he complained, and Charlie grinned, flipping him the bird as he went. He whipped into Todd and Neil’s room, locking the door behind him as securely as he could. He scrambled out the window.

Look, Charlie claimed a lot of things, but sainthood was never among them.

The roof offered a perfect view of the grounds. Charlie could see two dark little figures, walking off towards the lake - below, he realized, the crest of the hill that you couldn’t see over from ground level. They stopped beneath the tall cedar that guarded the dock. The ground underneath held only a powdered-sugar dusting of snow.

Distantly, Charlie was aware of himself, of the cold biting into his exposed fingers, the cramp threatening his left foot. But he was laser-focused in on Todd and Neil, standing in the snow together. His heart pounded in his throat. He was nervous for both of them, even though he _knew_ it would be okay. He was more nervous than the both of them put together.

Neil was speaking, his hands flying as they did when he was excited or nervous. Explaining himself, probably. His gestures spanned his own chest to his head to his pockets, where he pulled out - Charlie squinted - two little slips of paper. _The train tickets._ Todd’s hands flew to his mouth, like a girl given a ring, and Neil ducked his head slightly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Embarrassed. Charlie could picture his guilty grin. He shrugged, still speaking, but then Todd’s hands flew up to his collar. He stopped, slowly. His head tilted, considering, and Todd stepped closer. Their mouths met.

Charlie breathed.

They looked almost too perfect to be real, like two little figures in the midst of a snow globe, suspended in time. They would, he realized, be fine.

He grinned. They broke apart. Todd was speaking, now, reaching to take one of the tickets from Neil. He nodded yes, his hands moving from Neil’s coat collar up to cradle the sides of his face. Neil bent down, kissed him again, picked him up and spun him. Charlie heard the distant _yawp_ ring over the grounds, heard far-off peals of laughter.

From high in the stone tower, the bell began to chime. The familiar notes of an old carol rang out, something Charlie knew with his whole heart but couldn’t put a name to if you asked him.

“Merry Christmas, you oblivious idiots,” he whispered, just to himself. The lump in his throat was from the cold. Obviously.

Charlie rolled over onto his back, looking up at the bright sky. He would never, in the rest of his natural life, offer Neil Perry help with romantic endeavors.

 _But,_ he thought, a smile creeping onto his face as he imagined a train, traveling down the coast to a city of dreams and poetry, _maybe I won’t need to._

**Author's Note:**

> hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing !! please drop a comment below, it keeps me motivated ;))


End file.
